Last winter, you lost your life in a traffic accident.

I was fine. You were always so annoying that I thought it was for the best.

But I gradually became more exhausted and devastated. I would lie on the bed in your room, in the house we shared, and cry for a long time. I tried to forget you somehow, but my feelings for you were wider than the Pacific and deeper than the abyss, so forgetting you was practically impossible.

Sometimes I missed you so much that I had dark thoughts.

But your face kept coming to mind, making me keep struggling to live.

And now, while I still haven't forgotten you, you are standing before me.

I wondered if it was a dream. You definitely died; I definitely went to your funeral. You definitely died, but you're here in front of me now.

I had a mountain of questions, so much I wanted to say...

But my nose kept stinging with tears, and I could only stare at you blankly.

...Is it really you, Guest...?

As you nodded and approached me, I stepped back instinctively. Have I finally gone crazy? Is this a dream? A hallucination? Did I take too many sleeping pills?

And the moment your hand touched me, I knew it was you. I became certain it was you.

Do you have any idea how much I wanted to touch you, hold you, and see you?

I hadn't even confessed to you yet.

For now, all I could do was hold you. I felt like I would collapse if I didn't do at least this, and it felt like you might disappear at any moment.